New Beginnings
by gldnwrtr
Summary: A New Year's Eve inspired story. Equal parts BrennanBooth and AngelaHodgins. Mature readers only, please.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of FOX--but they have escaped to have a little fun with me.

Summary: Dual-pairing story featuring Angela/Hodgins and Brennan/Booth (because you begged nicely BonesDBchippie!). This is what happens when Brennan and Booth end up snowed-in with Hodgins and Angela on New Year's Eve. Graphic as usual, so mature readers only!

"_**New Beginnings"**_

**December 29th, 2006--West Virginia**

"_SNOW CHAINS REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT_"

Angela read the sign up ahead and turned to poke the man at the steering wheel next to her. "See Jack, aren't you glad now that I own a big-ass SUV?"

"Yeah, and this is about the only time you might be justified," Jack replied, steering the Jeep off the road and into the pull-out area to prepare it for the snow-covered road ahead.

Parking the car, Jack unsnapped his seat belt and leaned over to kiss Angela. "You know, we're going to get to the cabin and that storm they're predicting is going to hit. With any luck, they'll close the road and we won't be able to make it back down for work on Tuesday. Think Brennan will be pissed?"

"That's quite an optimistic prediction, Sweetie, and yeah, Brennan would be pissed if our four day weekend turned into five or six days. However, you won't see me complaining," Angela smiled, opening her mouth for the lingering kiss that would begin to fog up the windshield.

"We're going to need that extra day or two just to get the skiing in," Jack teased, giving her one last peck and squeezing her leg affectionately. "I'd better get started on those snow chains."

**Back At The Jeffersonian**

"So Bones, got any big plans for New Year's Eve?" Booth asked, attempting to make small-talk while waiting for Brennan to finish examining the piece of leg bone he had sent over that morning. He picked up a petrie dish containing something gray and spongy looking, and then set it back down quickly.

"Don't touch that," she commanded without looking up from her microscope. "The fine, straight marks of overlapping teeth indicate that the angle of attack changed during manual sawing. I'd say this is classic hacksaw dismemberment."

"Gotta love the classics," quipped Booth.

"And no, I don't have big plans for New Year's Eve," continued Brennan, straightening up and removing her gloves. She tucked a stray wisp of honey-brown hair behind her ear. "I find the whole concept of a _New Year_ problematic. Any random date can represent the beginning of the Earth's orbital path around the sun. In fact, many countries celebrate the New Year in April or early spring, while those who use a lunar calendar have no fixed date at all."

"C'mon Bones, what's not to love about New Year's Eve? This is one of the only holidays where you get to drink too much, stay up too late, kiss whoever is standing closest to you, and not be required to give gifts. It's the perfect holiday!" Booth reasoned, moving closer to Brennan.

"Okay, so it does sound like fun when you put it that way," Brennan relented. "What are _you_ doing on New Year's Eve?"

"We're going to be in Times Square watching the ball drop," chimed a voice from below them. Camille Saroyan was climbing the stairs to the platform while shrugging on her lab coat. She smiled widely, her dimples a dead give-away that she was delighted. "He owes me a trip to New York."

"Oh, well that sounds nice for you," Brennan said, attempting to reply appropriately.

Booth was looking at his shoes, hands in his pockets. "Us and about a million other people," he mumbled under his breath, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh, c'mon, don't be such a sour-puss," Cam scolded. "Times Square is the only place to be on New Year's Eve. Being part of the crowd just adds to the excitement."

"Cam's right," began Brennan, "The Emergent-Norm Theory states that the combination of like-minded individuals, anonymity, and shared emotion contribute to the appeal of being part of a crowd."

"_Thank you_, Doctor Brennan," Cam said, turning to her briefly, and then turning back to Booth: "Seeley, don't forget to pack early—and make sure you pick me up by nine o'clock sharp Sunday morning. We are _not_ going to miss this flight."

"Yeah, sure," Booth answered obediently, his jaw tightening. "Just let me know when you get more info on the bone, okay?" he said to both women, changing the subject.

"No problem," Brennan said slowly, curious at Booth's sudden lack of enthusiasm for the holiday he had tried so hard to promote. She just couldn't understand why he continued to be so moody when he was around Doctor Saroyan.

**December 30th, 2006—The Allegheny Mountains, West Virginia**

"Jack, tell me again why you own this tiny cabin… and did your grandfather _really_ shoot this bear we're lying on?" Angela asked again in disbelief, her head tucked up under his chin while her hand played beneath his rumpled, grey sweatshirt.

Jack closed his eyes, content to just lie quietly by the fire with Angela in his arms. He sighed and resigned himself to her questions. "I needed a base-camp while collecting soil samples from this region, specifically spodosols that occur in isolated pockets at the highest elevations. Also, it's conveniently located near the ski slopes—but far enough away from the crowds at the resort. And yes, my grandfather shot this very bear we're lying on. It was a brutally anti-conservationist world back then."

"Well, it's sexy in a horrible kind of way," Angela smirked, running a hand along the slightly moth-eaten fringes of the rug. "Do we get to make love on it? That would be so… retro."

"Only if I can figure out how you get a bear skin rug dry-cleaned," Jack replied. "I have a feeling that bear-skin sex is overrated. However," he began, rolling over in a dominant position, "I could be persuaded…"

"You could, could you?" answered Angela coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Well, get on board then for the '_Ursidae_ Express'…"

"Oooh, you're getting scientific on me Baby—you know how that turns me on…" Jack whispered, nipping at the soft skin at the base of her neck. He shifted until he was lying cradled between her thighs.

Things would have continued to heat up between them if they weren't suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

"_Who_ the hell could that be?" Jack jerked his head up, irritated and surprised that someone could be interrupting them this far from civilization.

**December 31st, 2006—Washington, D.C. **

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way," insisted Booth, trying to appease someone on the other end of his cell phone while throwing a couple of pairs of socks into a small suitcase. "It's only 8:35. I'll be there in plenty of time. No, I'm not still packing," he lied, walking over to his closet and scrutinizing his collection of ties. He chose a wildly striped green and red one and set it next to his garment bag.

Booth paused, switching his cell phone to his other ear. He heard the tell-tale click of another call coming through. "Hang on, Cam, I've got another call--" Booth glanced briefly at the screen, but long enough to see that it was Brennan who was calling.

Disconnecting Cam and knowing that there'd be hell to pay later, Booth answered: "Hey Bones, what's up? This isn't exactly a good time… What? You're kidding, right? Okay, you're not kidding. No, just wait right there--I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

Oddly elated, Booth threw the rest of his clothes into the suitcase, leaving the suit in the garment bag on his bed, and headed out the door. Was Cam going to be _pissed_…

**December 31st, 2006—Westbound on Interstate 50**

Eyes focused on the road, Booth listened as Brennan gave further directions to the person she was speaking to on her cell phone.

"Hodgins, make sure you don't compromise the remains any further—yes, I know I don't need to remind you how to do your job… good, I'm glad you replaced the lid—make sure the seal is tight. It's just that Booth thinks it may be that senator who went missing over a year ago. He was staying at the resort at the time…" Brennan made a face, "That's not funny Jack… Okay, we should arrive there a little after noon. Snow chains?" Brennan turned to Booth, "Do we have snow chains?"

Booth shrugged, and then nodded, "I think so—yeah, I used them last spring and they should still be in the back."

"Jack," continued Brennan, "Just keep the remains at the same temperature as they were found. _What?_ No, tell Angela that I didn't secretly pray for a disembodied head to ruin her weekend—oh, that was a joke? I'm hanging up now, Jack."

Booth was grinning.

"What's so funny?" Brennan asked, suddenly feeling like _she_ was the butt of the joke.

"Oh, nothing," Booth continued to smile. "Senator Gorewich is a case I've been working on since the beginning, when he went missing. There was some speculation that he was having a tryst with some high-class call girl at the resort in Canaan Valley. His wife claims that he was meeting about a land deal, but we never found any evidence that a business associate was involved. He was last seen by the valet when he picked up his car after checking out of the hotel. The guy said all he remembered about the senator is that he tipped badly. Where did you say Hodgins found the head?"

"Hodgins didn't find the head," Brennan explained, "His neighbor up the road a few miles was collecting firewood out of his shed and found this suspicious looking paint can."

"Why would _paint_ look suspicious?" Booth wondered aloud, glancing at her briefly and then thinking to himself: _God this is better than jostling for position in Times Square…_

"I suppose because he didn't usually store his paint in the woodpile," Brennan answered matter-of-factly. "Once he opened the can and saw that there was a head inside—"

"Why would he open the can?" Booth persisted, "Who opens a can of paint unless they're going to use it?"

"As I was saying," Brennan continued, looking at him sharply, "He headed down the hill to get help, noticed that there was a vehicle parked in front of Jack's place, and decided to get his help in the matter." Brennan looked away from him out the window as she added, "I don't know, maybe he wanted to see what color the paint was. Jack said the label was disintegrated. Why do you have to ask so many questions, anyway?"

"Because that's what I _do_, Bones," Booth replied, growing impatient. "That's what I do."


	2. Chapter 2

**December 31st, 2006—Hodgin's Cabin**

"Welcome to _Chateau de Jack_," Angela greeted Brennan and Booth at the door. "We thought you'd be here an hour ago."

Brennan stamped snow off her boots as she entered the cabin. Booth followed, taking off his coat and shaking the snow out onto the porch.

"We stopped at the hotel to get rooms for the night—they were completely booked. The concierge told us that we wouldn't be able to find anything available within a fifty mile radius because of the holiday," explained Brennan, not appearing too concerned.

"Yeah, so we figured we'd just stay here. There's plenty of room, right?" Booth said, peering into the dark recesses of the cabin.

Angela gave them both a blank stare. "You're kidding, right? This place only has two bedrooms—and Jack and I are in one of them. I guess there's the sofa in the main room, or the bear skin rug…" she trailed off, looking at them helplessly.

"Never mind about the sleeping arrangements—we'll deal with that later—let's take a look at the remains," Brennan entered the cabin purposefully, looking for Hodgins.

Booth followed, giving Angela a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about your weekend. If it's any consolation, my New Year's Eve has been totally screwed as well."

"No, it's not really a consolation," Angela grimaced, leading the way, "To be screwed _on_ New Year's Eve was all I wanted out of mine…"

**December 31st, 2006—Twenty Minutes Later**

Four heads bent over the metal table that was set up in the center of a small room off the back of the cabin. This was Jack's makeshift lab where he analyzed the soil samples collected during his hikes into the surrounding peaks and valleys of the Allegheny. The buzz of a generator could be heard whirring in the garage next to them. The 300 watt halogen light bulb overhead cast a sickening light on the proceedings.

Brennan had mounted the head—or what was left of it—on a dais usually reserved for Jack's more prized mineral finds. Four pairs of eyes stared at the unrecognizable features of the skull. What stared back was a ghoulish reminder of what could happen to someone's noggin if left too long in an empty paint can.

"Ew," Angela said in a dismayed voice, arms folded tightly across the soft angora at her breast. This was the last thing she had imagined herself doing during her romantic get-away.

"It's almost completely mummified," exclaimed Jack, fascinated.

The empty eye sockets gazed back at them, and leathery lips curled back to reveal a macabre smile.

"He's got nice teeth," Booth commented, not knowing what else to say. "Hey, is it just me, or is it getting colder in here?"

"The wind's been picking up for about an hour. We're supposed to get dumped on tonight," answered Jack, giving Angela a significant look.

"_Dumped on_ certainly describes our situation," Angela said, looking pointedly at Booth and Brennan. Are you sure you guys checked out _all_ the lodgings in the area?"

"There is nowhere else to stay, Angela," Brennan responded, lifting a strand of gray hair that remained fixed to the skull's taut, dried scalp. "This isn't your senator," she added abruptly, straightening up to face Booth.

"What? I mean, are you sure?" Booth's mouth gaped open, not wanting to hear what Brennan was about to tell him.

"Yes, I'm sure," Brennan answered calmly. "This is a female, who was probably in her late sixties when she died. Her facial structure indicates that she is most likely indigenous to this area—probably from the Late Mississippian period."

"So, she's Native American?" Angela became interested despite herself.

"I guess not the body we hoped for, but still a possible crime has been committed?" Booth asked hopefully.

Hodgins snorted, shaking his head.

"What's so funny?" Booth demanded, feeling foolish, although he didn't know why.

Brennan merely smiled at Booth and replied, "Maybe a crime committed over four-hundred years ago, but more than likely she died of old age."

'Huh?" was all Booth could manage.

Jack stepped up to Booth to explain. "The Late Mississippian culture roughly dates from fourteen to sixteen hundred A.D.—to the period leading up to European contact. I think what we have here is someone's idea of a sick joke. It was either robbed from a burial mound or taken from a university or museum. What it was doing in Hank's woodshed is beyond me. He does have a college-aged son who comes up here for the weekends sometimes. Maybe it was a fraternity prank that went wrong. I certainly experienced a few of those in my younger days…" Jack added with a fond smile of recollection.

"So what you're saying is that we came all the way up here for _nothing_?" Booth looked at Brennan, aghast.

"That appears to be the case," Brennan said simply, lifting the skull to place it into the evidence box Booth had brought along. "Do you have a fridge we can keep this in until I can get it back to the Jeffersonian for further analysis?" she asked Jack.

Angela answered for him: "No way. That fridge is for the steaks and the _really_ expensive French champagne Jack brought for us to celebrate with. Can't you keep… _it_… outside?"

Brennan thought for a moment. "I suppose it is cold enough in here. That's all I can do for now." She placed the closed box carefully on a shelf in a corner of the room, and then pulled off her gloves. "Hey, anyone else hungry? What do you have to eat in the house, Jack?"

"Yeah, I could eat too," Booth agreed, rubbing his hands together. "Plus, it's getting really, _really_ cold out here. C'mon people, it's New Year's Eve—let's _party_!" he added with forced cheerfulness.

Jack gave Booth a look that would have made a lesser man's blood run cold, but that Booth was oblivious to in his need for food and warmth.

Angela merely looked at Jack and sighed. Their weekend together certainly wasn't turning out as planned.

**December 31st, 2006—7:00 p.m.**

The fire had died down to a few glowing embers, and the only sound for the last five minutes was the howl of the wind outside the cabin and the rattling of the double-paned windows. Squatting next to the fire, Jack poked at the charred logs without much luck. Angela sat near him on the bear-skin rug, knees drawn up and arms hugging her legs. Behind them, Brennan and Booth sat at opposite ends of the couch, sipping their coffee.

Finally, breaking the silence, Jack turned to Booth. "Hey man, want to help me bring in more firewood? Since you're _here_, you might as well make yourself useful."

Booth looked up, not sure for a moment who Jack was speaking to. "What? Oh, sure. Do we _have_ to go out _there_? Let me get my coat…" He stood up and hunted around the living room for his jacket.

"It's in the closet next to the door," Angela directed, and then addressed Jack: "Sweetie, if you find any paint cans in your wood pile, _please_ leave them there."

Jack grinned at her, following Booth to the closet to get his own coat.

"If we're not back in ten minutes, send a search party," Booth attempted lamely.

Brennan watched the two men struggle out the front door, and then began collecting the empty coffee mugs. "Despite all our advances in sexual equality, the men still go out foraging while our domain remains the kitchen."

"Yeah, funny how that works," responded Angela drolly, following Brennan into the tiny kitchen.

**In the Kitchen**

"Think we'll get any hot water?" Brennan asked, turning on the tap.

"The water heater is probably full again by now. It's the showers in the morning that are going to be a problem when we run out of hot water. Although at least Jack and I can share a shower—we call dibs on getting in first!" Angela added in all seriousness.

"Angela," began Brennan, facing her friend, "Are you angry with me? I mean, do you really think Booth and I purposely ruined your weekend with Jack?"

Angela put down the mug she was soaping and sighed, looking into Brennan's eyes. "No, Sweetie, I'm not really mad at you—or Booth. I'm just mad at the situation. Jack and I were going to spend the whole weekend having sex. You and Booth have sort of cramped our style, so to speak."

"You've already been here almost two days—didn't you get enough?" Brennan laughed, taking a plate from Angela to dry it.

"When the sex is this good, it's never enough," Angela smiled, and then added, "We have what I call bunny-sex. It's every chance we get. In fact, I'm almost convinced now that the jack rabbit was named after Hodgins."

"Well, as long as you don't produce a litter every thirty days, I'd say enjoy," Brennan smiled, wistfully.

Angela suddenly grew serious. "Okay Brennan, I'm going to tell you something that you can't mention to Jack. The reason I'm uptight is that the next time he and I make love, it will be number sixty-three—as in times we've done it."

Brennan's mouth fell open. "You've only been dating for about two and a half months…"

"And your point is? I wouldn't really call what we're doing _dating_, anyway. It's way beyond that," Angela answered defensively.

"So what's the significance of the number sixty-three?" continued Brennan, curious.

Angela took a deep breath before explaining. "The most sex I'd had with one man was sixty-two times—that was with Kirk. I know it seems strange, but I do keep track of that sort of thing. You'd think the number would have been higher, but when you visit a guy and it's 100 degrees in the shade, it sort of squelches the passion."

"So, surpassing the number of times you've had sex with Kirk now becomes a milestone in your relationship with Jack," Brennan surmised, looking at Angela with new understanding.

"Yeah," Angela replied softly, "that and the fact that it will be a new year. It's like a… I don't know… a _new_ beginning. Like that promise you made to me after Kirk died—I really think it has a chance of coming true. Although I have to admit that _never_ in a million years would I have believed it would be with Jack Hodgins!" Angela laughed as she confessed this last part.

"Jack's a really good man," Brennan said sincerely.

"I know—although it took me long enough to see that. And now that we're together, I find that I've never felt so happy, so at peace with myself… it's kind of scary," Angela admitted. "Scary in a good way, though."

"Well," began Brennan slowly, "then I'm happy for you—and I know that he really loves you, Ang. You two need to do… whatever it is you had planned to do tonight. Just ignore the fact that Booth and I are here."

"Thanks, Sweetie. And if you want my advice…" began Angela, taking her friend by the hands.

Brennan began shaking her head adamantly. "Uh uh, no way, Angela. I think I know where you're about to go with this, and I don't want to hear it. Anyway, he's in a relationship with Cam right now."

Angela reached over and hugged her. "I wouldn't let the Cam thing stop you—but okay, I won't say it. But you _know_ what I'm talking about."

"Unfortunately, I do…" replied Brennan, smiling wanely.

**In the Wood Shed**

"No paint cans here," Booth shivered, letting Hodgins load up his arms with kindling.

"Yeah, don't remind me," responded Jack, testily.

Booth found he was tiring of Hodgins' snarky remarks. "Hey, you're a _squint_, couldn't _you_ have looked at that skull and figured out that it was the _wrong_ sex, the _wrong_ race, and the _wrong_ year to be our senator? It's not _my_ fault Brennan and I are stuck up here with the 'horny duo.' By the way, how'd a guy like you _ever_ bag a woman like Angela?"

Hodgins answered by dumping a particularly large log on the top of the pile in Booth's arms. "I won't even qualify that insult with an answer."

Booth grumbled under his breath, following as Hodgins closed up the wood shed.

Stopping, Hodgins turned abruptly to face Booth, finally coming up with a rejoinder. "How come a guy like _you_ hasn't bagged a woman like Doctor Brennan? She's crazy for you Man, don't you know that? Just how dense can an FBI stooge get?"

Booth stood staring after Hodgins who had just as abruptly turned again and continued walking back to the cabin. "She's _what_?" was all he could manage.

Hodgins waved a dismissive hand behind him at the trailing Booth. "Figure it out, Man."


	3. Chapter 3

**11:45 p.m.**

"We've got two more bottles of wine left—I can't believe we've already gone through three. Somebody drank it all…" Jack announced pointedly from the kitchen.

"That would be Booth," observed Angela, grinning at the FBI agent.

"What? So I like wine…" Booth answered them, a flush showing across his strong features. He reached for the empty glass in front of him on the coffee table and proceeded to knock it over. Sheepishly, he retrieved it, setting it back upright.

"I'd say that's definitely the case," agreed Brennan, amused by her partner's behavior.

Booth looked at both women, slightly annoyed. "Hey, I've had a little wine—get off my case. It's New Year's Eve, and this is supposed to be a party, right? Not like there's anything else to do…"

"Don't even go there, Booth," Angela responded while giving him a severe look. "Speaking of New Year's," she called to the kitchen, "I think it's almost time to break out the champagne, Jack." Pulling herself up from her place by the fire, she headed to the kitchen to offer her assistance.

"So now what? Is this the part where we make a few toasts and sing 'Auld Lang Syne'?" Brennan asked, turning to Booth and taking another sip of her own wine.

Booth scooted over to invade her side of the couch, throwing an arm behind her and leaning in close to explain: "We toast, we sing, and the best part of all is we…" he hesitated, searching her eyes.

"The best part of all is we… what?" Brennan asked openly, her eyes steady under his gaze.

Booth found, as usual, that he was unnerved by the way she could stare back at him unflinching and unabashed. Her own directness made his impossible.

"Well, you know," he began, dropping his eyes briefly, but then making contact again, "we… _kiss_."

"We do?" Brennan responded, mentally reviewing her catalog of New Year's facts to see if the kissing thing was listed there.

"It's a tradition, Bones," Booth explained, and then added, "I haven't missed a New Year's Eve kiss since my first one at the age of fourteen. Angela will be kissing Hodgins, so that means…" he trailed off, watching her reaction closely.

"…that means that since I am the only available female in the room, you would like to kiss me in order to fulfill your sense of obligation to continuing this tradition. I suppose I would be willing to participate, if it means that much to you," Brennan finished, pleased with her own rational summation of the situation.

Booth wasn't as pleased. "Oh, c'mon Bones, you make is sound so… unromantic."

Confusion flooded Brennan's cheeks as she sought to clarify, "There's supposed to be romance involved? I'm not really sure…"

She was interrupted by the reappearance of Jack and Angela carrying a bottle of champagne, two lead crystal champagne flutes, and two freshly washed wine glasses. "You're not really sure about what, Sweetie? That Booth should have any more to drink tonight?" Angela teased, waving the bottle of vintage Roederer Cristal.

Startled, Booth pushed himself away from Brennan. He glared at Angela, "Funny… you're _really_ funny."

"Hey, what's _not_ funny is that we only have one bottle of champagne. Also, you two will have to drink yours out of the wine glasses," Jack retorted, taking the bottle from Angela and maneuvering it into position to open it.

Angela handed Booth and Brennan their wine glasses. "Okay, time to get back into the party spirit," she brightened, "It's almost the New Year!" She pointed to the watch on Jack's wrist: "He's got the alarm set for twelve so we'll know when the big moment hits!"

Brennan stared at her blankly. Angela continued, "Did you know that in Scotland the New Year's celebration is called Hogmanay? It's considered especially lucky if a tall, dark, handsome man is the first to enter your house after the New Year rings in."

"Well, then maybe Booth should go wait outside. And then later, _you_ and _I_ will see if we get lucky," Jack responded, popping the cork. He held the bottle at arm's length as the champagne streamed out.

Angela clapped her hands in delight, and then checked her own watch. "Only one minute left, people!"

Jack walked around filling the glasses, and then he and Angela went to stand by the window to watch the snow fall on the New Year—as well as to put a little distance between themselves and their unwanted guests.

Brennan looked to Booth to show her the appropriate response to "the big moment."

When Booth stood up and raised his glass, Brennan followed his lead. Feeling her eyes on him, Booth turned to look at her. At that moment, her look of complete openness and trust in him made his heart tighten in his chest. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced this strange sensation when around her, but he was still trying to figure out what it meant.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of Jack's wrist watch alarm sounding the arrival of the New Year, and both Jack and Angela's exclamations marking the event. He heard the clink of their glasses, and that triggered him to turn again to Brennan and touch his glass to hers.

"Happy New Year, Bones," he said simply, taking a sip of the champagne.

"Happy New Year, Booth," Brennan replied, and also took a sip.

FBI agents are taught to make snap decisions while under pressure, and this moment required all of his best instincts. It helped that the wine had already taken the edge off his instincts towards restraint. Taking Brennan's glass out of her hand, he placed it alongside his own on the coffee table in front of them. Over by the window Jack had made a similar move, and was now in a very involved clinch with Angela.

"Is this the part where you kiss me?" Brennan asked with an edge of humor underlying her usual clinical tone.

"Shut up, Bones," Booth warned, and before she could utter another word he closed the distance between them.

Not sure what kind of kiss this was supposed to be, but finding that she liked the taste of Booth's mouth and the firmness of his shoulders beneath her palms, Brennan angled her own mouth so that it could open naturally under his. She felt Booth pull her closer in response, and the tentative touch of his tongue on her own.

_I'm definitely having a sexual response to this kiss…_ Brennan noted, feeling her pulse quickening and a sweet tension thrilling through her lower belly. These sensations were both familiar and pleasant, and she welcomed them. But as the kiss progressed, she became aware of a new feeling, both unfamiliar and frightening to her.

It was a strange sensation that began rising in her breast, an ache of yearning that was more than physical, and one that made her start back from Booth, breaking contact before the kiss's natural conclusion.

"What? Was it that bad?" Booth asked her, the hurt and confusion on his face unmistakable.

Surprised to find her heart was pounding in her chest, it took Brennan a moment to answer. And then she did something completely revealing to Booth—she looked away when she answered.

"No, it wasn't bad. It was actually very… nice." Brennan sank back down on the couch and quickly picked up her champagne to take a very large gulp.

Booth sank down also, back on the opposite end of the couch. He couldn't think of a single thing to say in response. This time he took Brennan's lead, and opted for another swig of champagne. The kiss hung heavy in the air between them, like a truth revealed that no one was ready to admit to.

It was doubtful that Angela and Jack had noticed the aborted kiss between Booth and Brennan. They had continued kissing and had been very thorough about the whole procedure. Finally, satisfied that they had greeted the New Year long enough, they separated and turned to their company.

"Well, Happy New Year, everybody. We're going to bed now," Jack announced, setting the half empty bottle of champagne on the coffee table in front of Booth. "Here, knock yourselves out."

"What? You're going to bed already?" asked Brennan, feeling a strange sense of panic rise in her breast.

Angela gave her a quick hug and whispered, "Happy New Year, Sweetie—remember that thing we talked about in the kitchen?"

"Hey, stay up awhile, help us finish the champagne. If you've got a deck of cards we could play a quick game of poker…" Booth looked at Jack hopefully. Jack and Angela weren't even out of the room yet, and the tension between Brennan and himself had just raised a notch.

"No can do, Man," Jack smirked as Angela took him by the hand to lead him towards the bedroom. "The bed in the other room is made up, and there are plenty of blankets in the closet for whoever gets the couch. I recommend rock-paper-scissors to figure that one out…"

Ultimately, Brennan and Booth had no choice but to watch Angela and Jack head off to the bedroom. Now alone, they only had each other and the awkward space between them.

**January 1st, 2007—The Bedroom**

"Do you think they'll be okay out there?" asked Angela anxiously, letting Jack pull her sweater off over her head. She shivered as the cold air in the bedroom touched her bare skin. Jack was already kissing the places he had revealed, his lips smoothing over raised gooseflesh. A few lit candles on the dresser illuminated Angela's golden skin, and their shadows danced against the far wall as the wind began to howl again outside.

"I don't know, and I don't care," he replied, barely breaking his stride. He fell to his knees to unlace her boots, tossing them aside as he removed them. Jack then focused on undoing her jeans, which soon followed the discarded boots.

"I think they might be feeling a little uncomfortable out there by themselves," Angela persisted, allowing Jack to back her up to the bed.

Exasperated, Jack pushed her gently so she tumbled back onto the down comforter. Standing first on one foot and then on the other, he yanked off his own boots while complaining, "I thought you _wanted_ them to be alone together and uncomfortable? That's always the first stage before getting it on. I think we're doing them a favor. But you know, Angela, I _really_ don't want to talk about them right now…"

Her shivering grown worse, Angela crawled under the covers while Jack finished undressing. She unsnapped her bra and flung it at him, returning under the covers as soon as possible. Jack finished by stripping off his boxers. Naked, cold, and fully erect, Jack burrowed beneath the covers to find Angela. Her shrieks were muffled by the blankets as his cold hands searched her body, but as he gradually warmed, his caresses instead began to elicit deep sighs of delight.

"Your tongue feels really nice and warm," Angela encouraged him, wriggling as he drew circles around her belly button with it. Jack rewarded her by circling lower, and lower, and lower…

**January 1st, 2007—The Living Room**

Twenty long minutes had passed and the champagne had already been finished off. Booth had done his best to engage Brennan in small talk. Unfortunately, small talk was not her forte. The easiest thing to do would be for both of them to call it a day and go to their respective sleeping quarters. Although his tall frame would not fit the couch comfortably, Booth thought he should offer to sleep there and let Brennan take the bed. They were both staring at the fire silently while Booth was thinking about what to say, and how not to appear too chivalrous about the couch thing. He had never felt this awkward around a woman before, and was not relishing the experience.

Unfortunately for Booth, the awkwardness was about to get worse.

Through the wall and behind the couch where they were sitting drifted the sound of an involuntary moan of pleasure. It was a female voice--obviously Angela's.

Booth stiffened, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Brennan looked behind her at the wall, and then at Booth. Booth, his head leaning into his hand, looked anywhere but at Brennan.

"Hodgins and Angela are having sex," Brennan announced matter-of-factly.

Another long, low moan punctuated her observation.

"No kidding?" Booth responded sarcastically.

"No, I wasn't kidding. Why would I be kidding?" Brennan asked sincerely, looking directly at Booth. She seemed completely unfazed by what was going on behind the wall.

As if to validate Brennan's observation, several high-pitched moans sounded in short succession. Like deer caught in the headlights, Booth and Brennan both sat frozen on the couch, listening.

Minutes passed, and for what seemed like an eternity the moaning continued, rising and falling in intensity and volume as if the responsible party was enjoying the sweet torture they were inflicting and had no intention of bringing about a conclusion anytime soon.

Suddenly unable to stand it any longer, Booth jumped up from the couch and walked over to the bookcase. Not caring which book he took, he grabbed one from off the shelf and stood by the hearth pretending to read it in the dim light of the fire.

Although as an anthropologist Brennan could listen to sounds like these with a certain clinical detachment, she was experiencing an element of discomfort from listening to them with Booth. "What are you reading?" she asked, attempting to make conversation and break the tension.

Booth turned the book over, trying to make sense of the string of scientific terminology that was supposed to be a title. His concentration was broken by the escalation of the moans, which now sounded as cries begging for release.

"What the hell is Hodgins doing to her in there?" Booth blurted out, staring at the wall behind Brennan's head.

"I'd make the conjecture that he's performing Cunnilingus," replied Brennan, "the intensity of her vocalizations does not suggest anything less—being stimulated digitally wouldn't produce this kind of response. Besides, she tells me that he's very good at oral sex and it's almost always included in their foreplay."

Booth stared at her, mouth open and unable to speak for a few seconds. Finally he said, "That was supposed to be a _rhetorical_ question. I've already painted a mental picture of what's going on in there—how could I _not_."

As they fell silent again, the sobbing cries finally reached a crescendo signaling impending climax, and then thankfully, died down.

Feeling a sense of relief, Booth commented charitably, "Well, I now have a new respect for Hodgins. I guess we can add 'muff diver' to his list of certifications, eh?" Here Booth turned and smiled weakly at Brennan.

"Muff diving?" Brennan asked, looking at him blankly.

The gaps in her knowledge of common slang never ceased to amaze him. "Going down on a woman—oral sex, Bones," he explained, finding the words hung a little too warmly between them. "It's a nice way of showing a woman how much you… care." Booth had no idea why he added this last bit, but found that he was staring at her mouth and eyes as he did. He took a step away from the fire, feeling suddenly too warm.

Waving a hand towards the kitchen Booth said, "I think there's another bottle of wine… I'm just going to… I'll be right back." He hastily shoved the book back into its place and headed for the kitchen.

When Booth returned a good ten minutes later with two glasses of red wine, Brennan looked up at him from the couch with her head cocked towards the back wall. The moaning had recommenced.

"You've got to be kidding…" Booth began, sinking slowly to the couch and handing Brennan a glass.

"You say that a lot, you know," Brennan noted. "Thanks for the wine."

Booth took a large gulp from his glass, and then spoke loudly to the wall, "I wasn't expecting an encore performance."

The moans evolved quickly into one long, wailing cry, and then just as quickly gave way to silence.

"Oral sex is the most reliable and effective means of achieving single or multiple orgasms," began Brennan enthusiastically, happy to share her knowledge on the subject. "Considering its success rate, I've always been surprised by the number of men who are reluctant or not willing to use this technique during foreplay. It always works for me—as long as I have a skilled partner who truly enjoys the act. I have very intense orgasms when a man pleasures me in that way."

Booth stared at Brennan. Images of her were entering his brain unbidden; shocked into existence by her candidness, and by the fact that it wasn't the first time he had thought of her with feelings of desire.

Brennan stared back, glancing down at his pants before looking back up into his eyes again. The heat went to her cheeks, but her voice was steady. "Booth," she began, a faint smile showing at the corner of her lips, "You're aroused."

Booth's eyes followed where Brennan's had wandered and he noticed the bulge running across his upper thigh. He colored, but was unable to either respond to her observation or look away from her eyes.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Brennan continued, speaking softly. "Men are at such a disadvantage when it comes to concealing their physical reactions to stimuli. If it makes you feel any better, I'm aroused too—it's a natural response to…" she drifted off, once again aware that she might be revealing too much.

It took Booth a few seconds to process her last statement. When he did, his eyes met hers in a completely different way. "You're aroused? By the sounds of lovemaking, or by…?" He waited for her to elaborate.

Brennan was positive now that she had made a mistake by being too honest with Booth, but she did not know how to do anything but answer him truthfully. "Yes, the sounds—they elicit memories of certain physical sensations I've experienced in the past, and taken together with our proximity…" she drifted off, his raw stare causing a new heat to flush her cheeks.

Booth inched closer to her, and reached out a tentative hand to touch her hair. "_Our proximity_? You feel it too, don't you Bones?" He searched her eyes, knowing he had gone too far to turn back now. He didn't want to turn back.

Brennan didn't flinch as he stroked her hair, and although she didn't look away, her voice trembled as she spoke: "I don't think this would be a good idea… from an anthropological standpoint--"

Booth knew that now was the time to forcibly extract Brennan from her safe cocoon of scientific reason and theory. Inside that defensive shell of hard-logic was a woman, and he wanted at her.

His mouth was on hers instantly to stifle all protest, and his arms were enfolding her in a grip that meant business.

Amazingly, Brennan didn't protest. Her eyes were open wide at first in surprise, but soon her lashes lowered in surrender and her mouth opened under his, accepting and willing.

As sexual arousal began to throb in every pulse point of her body, another sensation began to swell in her breast and to rise like sunlight into her consciousness. It was that same, unfamiliar feeling experienced during his New Year's kiss, but purer and more distinct. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew that it was all about Booth. Like before, she felt startled and wanted to draw back from him.

Booth must have sensed the beginnings of her doubt and would have none of it. He pulled away from the kiss, looked her hard in the eyes, and then gathered her up in his arms purposefully.

As Booth carried her towards the small bedroom on the other side of the cabin, Brennan clung around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She had no more energy left to protest. All she had now was her faith in Booth, and the hope that her own feelings, so often inadequate, could somehow metamorphose into something finer and better than she had ever known before.

**January 1st, 2007—Number Sixty-three**

"You know, that was the most amazing orgasm I've ever had," Angela whispered softly into Jack's ear, her arms in a loose embrace around his shoulders.

They were both seated upright on the bed, Angela rocking back and forth gently, impaled on his erection, her long legs wound around his hips. Jack's hands cupped her buttocks, alternately squeezing and then spreading them, one finger sliding between them to massage the tender space behind her vaginal opening. Warm, sweet arousal was building lazily in her core, her body still relaxed from Jack's earlier treatment.

"Hey," Jack whispered back, "Don't tell me that—now I'll have to work twice as hard to out-do myself next time." He followed this up with kisses along the side of her neck and down to the base of her shoulder, his beard caressing softly in the wake of his mouth. He thrust upwards, pulling her buttocks towards him as he did, drawing in his breath sharply as he held back from coming right then and there.

Angela tightened her grip on his shoulders; shuddering at the feel of his stiff cock throbbing like a heart beat deep inside of her. She responded by softly pulsing her hips against his. A warm, fluid wave of pleasure began to ripple out from her core, and she realized she was ready for another orgasm.

Lacing her fingers through Jack's curls and drawing his face close to hers, Angela gazed into those soulful blue eyes that meant everything to her now, and said the words that had never been easy for her to say before: "I love you, Jack."

"I love you too, Baby," he responded, his mouth seeking hers hungrily.

Below, their hips began moving together frantically and in earnest, Jack's hands gripping her buttocks and maneuvering her to meet his thrusts. Angela was making little noises of frustration. This arrangement, however pleasurable, was not quite sufficient to push her over the edge. Jack took this as his cue to move into a position that would facilitate a climax for both of them.

Keeping a firm grip on her ass so he wouldn't slip out of her, Jack rocked forward violently to tip her over on her back. Angela moaned her satisfaction as he sank down between her thighs and recommenced thrusting. Now, with her legs spread open wide for maximum sensation, and Jack's pelvis gently rubbing her trigger as he stroked in and out of her, Angela felt the pleasure build and build until she was unable to contain it any longer. Her long, drawn-out sobs accompanied a climax that crashed over her in a tidal wave of deep, exquisitely pleasurable contractions. In the meantime, Jack continued to thrust, moving faster and more urgently, his own release held back for so long that when it finally came, he shuddered and twitched for several seconds, groaning in ecstatic relief.

Collapsed on her and breathing heavily into her shoulder, Jack lifted his head and began laying soft kisses on Angela's cheeks. They were wet beneath his lips.

Jack raised himself on one arm, his face concerned as he searched hers. "Are you crying, Angela?" he asked tentatively, not sure what this kind of reaction to his lovemaking meant.

Angela sniffled a little, affirming the tears. "I know it's silly, but I'm just so happy right now," she answered, knowing she had crossed that invisible line into the future. _A future with this crazy, wonderful bug and slime guy_… The thought made her laugh as the tears continued to trickle down her cheeks, and she pulled Jack's head down to hers to cover his face with kisses of gratitude.

**January 1st, 2007—Brennan and Booth**

The small bedroom on the opposite side of the cabin held its own drama of unfolding passion.

A few minutes earlier Booth had deposited Brennan on the bed, and began stripping, his eyes never once letting go of hers. He thought that somehow, if he could hold her gaze, she would stay and allow him to make love to her. So far, it was working.

As Booth slid off his boxers and then stood facing her, Brennan's eyes dropped to take in the sight of his erection, which was straining towards her, its fine veins pulsing in a show of readiness. She reached out a slim hand and trailed her fingertips down the length of his shaft, pausing to gently rub the head of his penis with her thumb. Booth breathed in sharply, taking a step closer, his penis jumping as it continued to stiffen under her touch.

Brennan, who from the moment Booth had swept her up into his arms had felt vulnerable and powerless against the new emotions threatening to displace all her protective mechanisms, now saw a way to regain control. As she fondled his erection, she smiled up at him, knowing she could turn this around again and make it just sex.

Eyes still looking up into his, Brennan continued to smile as she began to lower her head, lips parted and full of purpose. It was at that moment that Booth realized that Brennan wanted to stay in control, and as good as that might feel right now with her face and warm breath mere inches from his throbbing dick, he couldn't let that happen.

"Not this time," Booth said firmly, pushing her away almost roughly. He was rewarded by the look of complete surprise on her face. If she wanted clinical, he would give her clinical. "I'm going to undress you now," he continued, businesslike, and started unbuttoning her blouse. The tiny buttons were proving a challenge, so he directed her: "You finish with the blouse, alright?"

Brennan was still staring up at him with her mouth open, eyes wide. "Okay… Booth…" she answered slowly, and began working on the buttons at her breast. She felt her boots being tugged off her feet, and then Booth was reaching up under her wool skirt for the waistband of her tights. She lifted her bottom obligingly so he could remove them. Her panties came off with the tights, and Booth grunted his approval. Brennan tried to sit forward as she removed her blouse, but Booth tipped her backwards, pushing her skirt up around her waist. His strong hands gripped her ankles, and he was pulling her forwards until her bottom was almost hanging off the edge of the bed.

She gasped at the unexpected manhandling, protesting weakly, "Booth, what are you--?"

"Hodgins isn't the only one who's good at this," Booth growled, sliding his palms along the insides of her thighs, lifting, and then establishing a firm hold on them.

Unable to sit up or to disengage, Brennan had no choice but to give up and give in. She closed her eyes and reached around her for something to hold on to. The coverlet would have to do.

"I don't want this to be like any other time you've had with any other guy, Temperance," Booth announced, his voice softer than before. He pushed back on her thighs until her vulva tipped up like a flower offering itself to the sun. Under his hot breath, she trembled slightly. For once she was at a loss for words.

Booth pressed a kiss to the soft pad of her mons, and then proceeded to explore her with his tongue. He began slowly, trailing his tongue on a languid path around the perimeter of her sex, each concentric circle around bringing him closer in to her pleasure zone, but never quite reaching it. Brennan's shallow breathing had quickly turned labored; Booth's teasing causing her to arch up, trying to maneuver herself beneath his mouth. Booth, however, would have none of it, and held her in place firmly while he continued on his original course.

Finally, Brennan began to whimper, and called to him in a pleading tone, "God Booth, please…" She must have used the magic word, because Booth complied immediately.

As Booth's tongue unfurled at her stem, and wriggled its way up to her peak, Brennan began to moan loudly. Encouraged, he lapped at her with animalistic intensity, moving up to slide his tongue back and forth alongside her clitoris, and then moving down to insinuate it deep inside her. Inflamed by the taste and smell of her, and by the sounds she was starting to make, Booth groaned as his erection pressed into the mattress in front of him. He resisted the urge to rub himself against it, knowing it would be over for him if he did.

At this point Brennan's legs began trembling violently, each guttural moan dissolving into a high-pitched cry at the end as she moved her pelvis in counter-rhythm to his tongue strokes. Booth knew she was about to come, and focused his ministrations around the swollen bud of her clitoris, working it in tight circles. He moved one hand from her thigh to slip two fingers into her, rubbing gently at her G spot.

"Oh My God, Booth… Oh my God…" Brennan gasped between moans as her orgasm overtook her. The contractions were so intense they were almost painful, but they softened into waves of intense pleasure as they emanated outward from her core. Booth's tongue continued to work her nub while his fingers stroked in and out, until Brennan's cries of release finally subsided.

As Brennan waited for her breathing to quiet, she lay back exhausted with one hand flung across her eyes, afraid to look up at him. "That was… you were…" she couldn't find the words to finish. However, Booth wasn't going to let her rest for long.

Standing up stiffly and with effort, Booth reached down and began unzipping Brennan's skirt to remove it. Brennan sat up, allowing him to finish undressing her. The unbuttoned blouse came all the way off, as did her black lace bra. The sight of her full breasts arching up to him, pale in the dim light, inspired Booth to drop to his knees once more. Moving between her legs, he buried his face between those lovely breasts, and cupped them in his large palms.

Brennan took Booth's head in her hands, lowering her face to his crown to inhale the warm scent of his hair. He was so different than any other man she'd known, as were the feelings he'd elicited in her tonight.

"You're very beautiful, Temperance," he murmured against her skin, unable to resist opening his mouth over one of her nipples. He rolled it around gently with his tongue, and then sucked it taut. Brennan sighed into his hair, offering her other breast when he was done pleasuring the first one.

Booth stroked the tops of her thighs, lifting them as stood up and tipped her backwards on the bed. "Wrap your legs around my back," he whispered to her hoarsely, his stiff penis throbbing between them. "Do you want me inside of you?" he asked, and then added, "I want you so much…"

"Yes," was all Brennan answered, and reached between them to guide him into her as her legs encircled his waist. Booth let out a deep groan as he slid into her tight warmth, resisting the urge to start thrusting right away.

"Put your arms around my neck," he instructed. After she did as he said, he pulled her up off the bed with him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her body now riding on his hard cock. Booth stood in the center of the bedroom, arms hooked through Brennan's legs while his hands gripped her buttocks. She clung to him, suspended and impaled on his throbbing erection.

Looking directly into her eyes Booth asked, "Do you love me?"

Brennan's eyes opened wide, not understanding the question.

"Tell me that you love me, because I think you do," Booth persisted, and then began slowly raising and lowering her on his erect member as he flexed his biceps.

Hanging helplessly in his arms, the friction between them growing more and more delicious as he worked his cock in and out of her, Brennan knew she had no choice but to succumb to the emotional tide that was also building and threatening to overwhelm her. But she had one question that needed to be answered first.

"What about Cam?" she challenged, trying hard not to let the sweet sensations that were building distract her from knowing the truth.

Booth didn't flinch at the question, but continued to gaze directly into her eyes as he answered, "I don't love Cam. I never have. I've loved you since the beginning… although you've never made it easy."

Brennan knew he was telling her the truth, and it turned her world upside down. Burying her face in his neck, she trembled, as he continued to thrust up into her deeply, lovingly.

"I… I love you too…" Brennan blurted out, releasing years of self-denial, years of not allowing herself to feel too much. Finally she looked up at Booth, a little frightened, only to find that he was smiling at her with tenderness and joy. The expression on his face filled her with warmth, and her body responded by yearning for that intimate contact he was so eager to give her.

Booth kissed her mouth as he stroked inside her, pumping his arms more vigorously now and increasing the pleasurable sensations until she began writhing in his arms.

Still clinging helplessly to his neck for dear life, Brennan sobbed with pleasure as the friction of sliding up and down his cock escalated into orgasm. She twisted and shuddered in his arms, thankful when he dropped with her to the bed again and began thrusting with all his energy. Her waning orgasm found new stimulus and swelled again, causing her to cry out over and over again. Booth's loud groans sounded close to her ear as he began to ejaculate into her, his tension finally unwinding in pleasurable release.

Collapsed together on the bed, Booth found the strength to roll off of Brennan and pull her into his arms.

"Okay, just to let you know, there's no taking back anything that was said tonight," he warned her, placing a kiss on her warm forehead.

"I think I can stand by what I've said," she began slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"Uh uh, no overanalyzing this, Bones," Booth said, giving her a sharp pinch on the thigh. She flinched, smacking his hand away.

"I was only thinking that this is like a new beginning—you telling me that you love me and me realizing that I love you too…" Brennan began, thinking of Angela's words to her.

"I think we can stand by what we've _both_ said," Booth laughed, rolling her over to look deeply into her eyes before kissing her into silence once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**January 1st, 2007—The Morning After…**

The storm had passed sometime during the night, leaving the mountainside clear and calm and covered with snow. As the morning wore on, every last cloud had moved south, leaving the vault of sky above a brilliant blue.

Inside the cabin, a shaft of sunlight made its way through the space between the curtains to coax Angela from her sleep. Fluttering her eyelids in irritation, she finally gave in to wakefulness. Rolling over, she found the space on the sheets next to her cold. Sitting up finally, she rubbed her eyes, wondering at the smell of coffee that seemed to fill the cold spaces of the bedroom.

"Well it's about time, sleepy-head," Jack's voice greeted her.

Angela glanced over to see Jack lounging in a chair next to the window, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. He was dressed in a mismatched pair of sweat pants and shirt, his curls tousled and unkempt from sleep.

Yawning, Angela smiled at him. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked, slipping reluctantly out from beneath the covers and hunting for her pink Uggs underneath the bed.

Jack had stood up when he saw that Angela was ready to brave the cold. He retrieved her robe from off the hook on the back of the door, and wrapped it around her while embracing her. "It's time to come see something that I think you'll find interesting," he answered, grinning at her and giving her a perfunctory kiss on the lips.

"Well you'd better hurry, because I've really got to pee," Angela warned him, shivering despite the warmth of his arms. "And I hope you've got the fire going, because it's like negative twenty degrees in here…"

"The fire's lit, and this won't take long—I promise," Jack grinned, kissing her on her cold nose.

Taking Angela by the hand, Jack led her out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

He stopped when they reached the bathroom door. It was closed, and the sound of the shower could be heard distinctly. Jack merely looked at the door, and then looked back at Angela, smirking.

"I told Brennan that we had dibs on the shower first--" began Angela petulantly, ready to knock on the door and demand that her friend hurry it up so that there would be some hot water left for them. Jack stayed her hand, giving her a meaningful look.

"What? Is that Booth in there and not Brennan?" she asked, getting more annoyed by the second. "Because if it is--"

"Oh, it's better than that," Jack whispered, indicating that she should keep her voice down. He was smiling broadly at her with a look of smug self-satisfaction.

Angela's was still confused. Jack continued to look at her, waiting for the reaction that he knew would come. He didn't have long to wait.

Over the sound of water spraying on tile, two voices could be heard, the acoustics of the small bathroom carrying them through to the hallway. Brennan's raspy voice was saying something that was unintelligible to the listeners outside the door, and it was followed by the sound of Booth's deep chuckle in response.

Understanding flooded Angela's expression and her mouth dropped open in amazement. "Oh," was all she could manage, staring hard at the bathroom door.

Jack beamed, nodding to her, "Oh yeah, _that's_ what I'm talking about, Baby."

After a few seconds and the initial shock having worn off, Angela smiled and sighed happily, "My fondest wishes have just come true—thanks to a mummified head in a paint can."

"I thought that would make you happy," Jack said, squeezing her hand as he led her away from the door. "Now, let me show you the way to the outhouse, and then we may as well go back to bed for a few hours because we won't be getting a hot shower anytime soon."

"Outhouse?" Angela repeated, her voice wilting. "I'm going to kill Brennan…"

**January 1st, 2007—Epilogue**

Standing on the front porch of the cabin with his cell phone to his ear, Booth waved to the snow plow driver as the large vehicle moved slowly past them up the road. It was late afternoon and the weather had held, allowing the roads to be cleared and snowbound merrymakers to return home in time for work the next day. This meant that there were now rooms available at the lodge.

Satisfied with himself, Booth was about to snap his phone shut when he noticed an incoming call. His forehead creased in a frown when he saw the caller's ID. Sighing and knowing it would only make matters worse to put off the inevitable, he picked up the call.

"Hey," he answered, trying to keep his tone light. "Yeah, we got snowed in… At Hodgin's cabin… No, I couldn't get reception, there was a storm… Well, getting snowed in usually means no reception—it's not like I could have done anything about the weather, now could I?" Booth tried hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Happy New Year to you too… No, I won't be back tonight… No, Brennan won't be back tomorrow either… No, it doesn't exactly have to do with the case--Listen, Cam, we've got to talk…"

Booth heard the other end of the line go silent, and then disconnect. _Well, that was one way to end a relationship. She'll get over it, _Booth told himself, knowing he should never have gotten involved with her again in the first place. He just hoped that Cam wouldn't make things difficult for Brennan back at the Jeffersonian. He would still need to have that talk with her, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

"Was that Zach?" questioned Brennan's voice behind him, carrying the evidence box containing the silent catalyst to all the events of the past twenty-four hours. "I need him to call all the universities and museums in D.C. and see if we can identify our mystery woman," she said, smiling fondly at the container in her hands.

Booth turned to take the container out of her hands. "It's a holiday, Bones. Zach's not going to be able to reach anybody today. Besides, I've got us a room at the lodge for the night. We can head back to D.C. tomorrow." He gave her his best persuasive grin, his eyes twinkling.

"But work…?" Brennan began, doubt in her voice.

Booth stepped up to her and put an arm around her. "Bones, work will be there tomorrow. This head I'm holding will keep until tomorrow—it's mummified, remember? Hell, half the staff at the Jeffersonian probably won't be there tomorrow anyway. And by the way, I told Hodgins that we owe him another day of vacation so that he and Angela can… well, you know…"

"He and Angela can what?" a perky voice sounded behind them. It was Angela coming down the front steps, lugging both their overnight bags towards their car.

"Why do I feel like we're getting the bum's rush?" Booth cracked, watching Angela with amusement.

"Because, Seeley, you are," Angela said firmly, heaving the bags into the back seat of Booth's vehicle. "Did I tell you how nice it was _finally_ having enough hot water again for a shower?" she added accusingly.

"Hey, I did give you another day off, now didn't I?" Booth appealed to her.

Angela put her hands on her slim hips and gave him a hard look. "That's Brennan's call, Booth, not yours." And then turning to Brennan, "How about it, Sweetie, do we get our last day visitor-free?"

Brennan hesitated for only a second, feeling both Angela and Booth's eyes willing her to lighten up. "Sure, Angela, you and Jack take tomorrow off. This head will keep. Besides, I hear that Booth has plans for us this evening--"

"That will last waaay into tomorrow," interrupted Booth, steering her towards the car.

Angela smiled approvingly. "Way to go, Seeley," she cheered softly, watching Booth load Brennan into the passenger seat.

Jack came out at that moment, hair still damp from the shower. "You guys taking off now?" he called, unable to hide the delight in his voice. He stepped down from the porch towards Booth.

"Yeah, I figured we shouldn't impose on you any longer—anyways, we've both got some business that needs attention, eh?" Booth smiled, conspiratorial, nodding his head toward Angela and Brennan. He reached out a hand to Jack, grasping it warmly in a hearty shake.

"No problem," Jack replied, moved by Booth's sudden display of camaraderie. "And yeah, you've certainly got some business that needs catching up on, 'cause I'm _way_ ahead of you in _that_ department, Man," Jack finished, grinning.

"Don't worry—I'm going to do my best to make up for lost time," Booth said, shooting a significant look Brennan's way.

"What's taking so long?" called Brennan. Resigned now to being in love and not being allowed to return immediately to work, she was eager to get to the lodge and be alone with this man who had moved through her defenses like a tiger through tall grass. She still wasn't sure she'd be good at this love thing, but she was ready to try.

Booth broke the handshake, catching and holding Brennan's eyes through the windshield. "I'm coming," he called, moving towards the car in anticipation of the rest of his life.

Angela, who had finished her goodbyes with Brennan, returned to Jack. They both stood watching as Booth and Brennan drove off down the road.

As Booth's vehicle disappeared from sight, Jack turned to Angela expectantly: "Hey Baby, don't we have a date with a bear-skin rug?"

_The End_


End file.
